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Dying she fell, and as the strains expire, Breath'd out her soul in anguish on the lyre; Dissolv’d in transport, she resign'd her breath, And gain’d a living conquest by her death.
DAY: A PASTORAL.
4. From the low-roof’d cottage ridge, See the chatt'ring swallow spring; Darting through the one-arch'd bridge, Quick she dips her dappled wing. 5. Now the pine-tree's waving top Gently greets the morning gale: Kidlings mow begin to crop Daisies on the dewy dale. 6. From the balmy sweet, uncloy'd, (Restless till her task be done) Now the busy bee's employ'd Sipping dew before the sun. 7. Trickling through the crevic'd rock, Where the limpid stream distills, Sweet refreshment waits the flock When 'tis sun-drove from the hills. 8. Colin's for the promis'd corn (Ere the harvest hopes are ripe) Anxious;–whilst the huntsman's horn, Boldly sounding, drowns his pipe. 9. Sweet,_O sweet, the warbling throng On the white emblossom'd spray! Nature's universal song Echoes to the rising day.
10. Fenvid on the glitt'ring flood Now the moontide radiance glows; Drooping o'er its infant bud, Not a dew-drop's left the rose. 11. By the brook the shepherd dines, From the fierce meridian heat Shelter'd by the branching pines Pendent o'er his grassy seat. 12. Now the flock forsakes the glade Where uncheck'd the sun-beams fall; Sure to find a pleasing shade By the ivy'd abbey wall. 13. Echo in her airy round, O'er the river, rock, and hill, Cannot catch a single sound, Save the clack of yonder mill. 14. Cattle court the zephyrs bland, Where the streamlet wanders cool; Or with languid silence stand Midway in the marshy pool
15. But from mountain, dell, or stream, Not a flutt'ring zephyr springs; Fearful lest the noontide beam Scorch its soft, its silken wings.
16. Not a leaf has leave to stir, Nature's lull'd—serene—and still! Quiet e'en the shepherd's cur, Sleeping on the heath-clad hill.
18. Now the hill—the hedge—is green, Now the warblers' throats in tune; Blithsome is the verdant scene, Brighten’d by the beams of Noon!
EVENING. 19. O'er the heath the heifer strays Free;—(the furrow'd task is done) Now the village windows blaze,
Burnish’d by the setting sun.
21. Trudging as the ploughmen go (To the smoking hamlet bound,) Giant-like their shadows grow, " Length'ning o'er the level ground.
23. As the lark with vary'd tune Carols to the evening loud, Mark the mild resplendent moon Breaking through a parted cloud!
24. Now the hermit howlet peeps From the barn or twisted brake; And the blue mist slowly creeps, Curling on the silver lake.